


Walk the Beat

by TheKiwiBird



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKiwiBird/pseuds/TheKiwiBird
Summary: Tyler Breeze and Fandango find adjusting to the Superstar Shake-up harder than they thought. Unlike Smackdown Live and all their passably well-groomed locker rooms, RAW is a madhouse of fashion violations and general nonsensical fashion choices.As they travel the halls, they encounter several superstars, and one that catches Tyler's eye for a particular reason.





	Walk the Beat

“Ugh, and here I thought Smackdown Live was full of uggos. RAW is so much worse.”

Tyler Breeze scrunched his nose as his partner, Fandango, slapped a fashion violation citation paper to Mojo Rawley’s sweaty, meaty bicep.

“What does ‘Bro Me’ even mean?!” Fandango shouted, prompting Tyler to turn around and grab his shoulder.

“Pay attention, Dango. More important fish to fry.”

“Yeah, too many. This is a trainwreck! This is a nightmare! Nothing but gigantic, unhygienic, poorly dressed uggos!”

“I know, I know…”

“Do they even know how to tie a Double Windsor knot in a tie?”

“They probably wear clip-ons around here.”

“SWEET RICHARD SIMMONS!”

“Uh, can you two idiots pipe down and get out of the middle of the hallway?”

Both Tyler and Fandango’s heads whipped to spot the source of the sound; Elias stood staring them down, unamused.

Tyler and Fandango swarmed around The Drifter, examining his scarves and his silk shirt.

“Well, well, well, at least somebody made the effort to not look like an absolute wreck,” Tyler cooed. “but the well-trained eyes of Deputy Dango and I can tell you bought these at some low-rung department store like Macy’s, Boscov’s, or Target. At least you’re helping yourself at a bargain, I can respect that. Not everybody has a well-paying gig on the side like Dango and I.”

“Well then, maybe you two should go back to...whatever that side-job is and bother somebody else.” Elias waved them away, stomping off as they stood enjoying the patterns in his scarves one last time.

“Well, at least there’s one halfway decent person here, Breezey.”

Both nodded in agreement, then continued sauntering down the hall. After a few more citation handouts, Fandango spotted Dolph Ziggler at catering.

“Look at that! An 80’s relic, living and breathing…”

Tyler froze, grabbing Fandango’s hat, placing it atop his head, and ducking behind the taller man.

“What? What is it, Breezey?”

“Let’s just leave…”

Dolph’s ears perked up at the sound of Tyler’s voice, and he turned around with a wolfish smirk splattered across his well-chiseled face.

“Heyyyyyyyyyy~” Dolph set his plate down on an empty table, then tossed both hands up.

“Nuuuu…~” Tyler tucked behind Fandango, making the elder deputy place an arm back to guard the quivering blond behind him. 

“If it ain’t the Fashion Cops! Big ol’ Dango,” Dolph swung around Fandango, coming face to face with Tyler, and making the younger man jump and shrink. “And his little twerp Tyler!” He tossed Fandango’s hat away and ruffled Tyler’s hair, messing it up and half-yanking it out of its neatly arranged ponytail.

“Back away from the Breeze right now, 80’s Reject, or I will have to arrest you!” Fandango swung around, moving both himself and Tyler around in one fluid motion, now coming face to face with The Showoff.

“Ooh, did I ruffle some feathers, here? Or should I say, ruffled some fur?” Dolph chuckled. “Ah, whatever, so you guys got shuffled over here too, huh? Good luck!” Dolph cackled, walking away to retrieve his plate. Fandango mirrored his moves until the bleached blond was far away from himself and Tyler.

“It’s okay, Breezey, we’re getting outta here.” Fandango turned around, picking Tyler up and carrying him out of the room, the smaller blond wrapping his arms around Fandango’s neck and hissing at the now-sitting Dolph, who smirked and gave a small wave at their departure.

As Fandango continued down the hallway with Tyler in tow, he suddenly realized his hat was missing. He set Tyler down, getting a confused look.

“My hat is still in there. Stay here, I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No, don’t go in there! HE’S STILL IN THERE!” Tyler flailed, but to no avail, as Fandango disappeared back into Catering.

Tyler curled up, waiting nervously, dreading the appearance of the bleached blond man who just LOVED to tease him. He heard a pair of feet coming from the opposite side of the hall and he looked up. 

Now this was no uggo. No, this guy...was something else.

Stunning presence, runway strut almost on accident, gear sharp and sleek, grooming looking professionally messy all clean-trimmed yet tousled.

His face was...scarily familiar. Honestly, Tyler had seen this man before him at some other point, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Hey, you alright down dere?” The man stopped and leaned over, looking Tyler over.

“Yeah, I just...my partner left me here and...I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The man just chuckled and offered a hand. “Name’s Finn. Didja forget it?”

Oh, this was Finn Balor. He had completely forgot that the man existed. He had other things to pay attention to these days.

But no, it wasn’t that. Something about the way he moved was...there was a word...nostalgic? He’d seen it before. It was some French word, maybe.

“Y’comin’ up or what?” Finn smiled warmly, and Tyler took his hand, slowly letting the Irishman help him to his feet, even though he didn’t need it.

“Uh, thanks. So, uh...I feel like we’ve met before.”

“How hard did I kick ya to make you forget dat, huh?” Finn smirked. 

“No, no, not...not in the ring. Have you worked outside of wrestling?”

“Uh, I’ve done od’er stuff b’sides wrestlin’,” Finn replied. “lotsa stuff. Why d’ya ask?”

“I just...I was thinking of something. Maybe it’s not you, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t think too hard, okay pal?” Finn slapped his shoulder and continued into Catering, bypassing Fandango.

The older Fashion Police officer adjusted his recovered hat and smiled at Tyler.

“See? I told you I'd be fine.”

“Hey, hey. That guy you just passed.”

“Yeah, the Demon Prince or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, have you seen him somewhere before?”

“At, uh, pay-per-views?”

“No, not at wrestling! Like...somewhere else. I swear he's...no...” Tyler narrowed his eyes.

“What is it, Breezey?”

“...I swear I’ve seen him at a show.” Tyler began walking towards the Catering door, then stopped, remembering that Dolph still lingered. “You...you continue handing out citations, I’m gonna do some research.”

“Right. Good luck.” Fandango tugged on his hat brim as a salute, then sauntered off.

Tyler paced back and forth, poking at his phone. After nearly a half an hour, he found next to nothing but a handful of glamour shots of Finn Balor in some fancy suits. Tyler was certain he’d seen him in Milan, or something…

A tight grip of his shoulder sent a shiver down Tyler’s spine, fearing Dolph’s return. 

“Y’want my portfolio, Deputy Breeze?”

Finn snickered, whipping around to Tyler’s line of sight.

“You have a portfolio?”

Finn gave an incredulous look. “Uh, yeah.”

“I have been looking for something, anything, for a half an hour now!”

“Well, I told y’this back in NXT, mate; never modeled as Finn Balor.”

Tyler blinked. “We talked ever back then?”

“Fer a hot minute when ah first showed up.”

“Oh…” Tyler scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s been a while.”

“You’n’Captain Hardbod over dere’ave been busy wid’yer little cases, I s’pose?”

“That’s Deputy Dango to you, Mr. Also Model!” Tyler pouted for a moment, his arms crossed. “So you have done a show or two, huh? Paris? Milan? Tokyo?”

“Did a couple in Tokyo. Helped pay d’bills when shows were lean’r ah’got hurt.”

“Gotcha, gotcha...so who’d ya wear?” Tyler pressed his thumb against his chin, getting into his popular modeling pose almost on instinct while talking about the business.

“I worked for Armani Exchange, remember?” Finn raised an eyebrow. “You honestly don’t remember anythin’, do ya?”

“I do! Just...I’ve had other things to do that are...slightly more important. Well, maybe not quite as important these days…” Tyler flipped his hair. “But Armani, eh? Let’s see those shots…”

“May I?” Finn held out his hands towards Tyler’s phone.

“Absolutely not!” Tyler defensively pulled his phone towards his chest. “Just tell me what I’m looking for.

Finn sighed. “Look for ‘Prince Devitt Armani’.”

“Is that one T or two?”

\-----

Fandango sat in the Fashion Police Headquarters, typing up his complete list of issued citations, as Tyler entered with Finn in tow.

“Dango, we have ourselves a new junior deputy.”

Fandango spun around in his chair, smirking. “Who?” He then noticed Finn. “Oh…”

“Meet Junior Deputy Devitt.” Tyler smiled brightly, stepping to the side and holding his arms out in a presenting fashion around the left side of Finn.

“Ah, we’ken just go wid’Balor, prefer’bly.”

“Ah…” Tyler scratched the back of his neck, going back to his original position. “Okay, uh, uh, presenting! Junior Deputy Balor!” Tyler went back to his presenting pose.

“Wonderful! With all these uggos around, we’re gonna need all the help we can get!” Fandango stood up, holding out his hand for one of the Fashion Police’s patented nail-guarding fist bumps.

Finn examined the gesture, bent his fingers to match, went to fist bump, stopping midway. He switched to his own Too Sweet gesture, then lightly booped the top of Fandango’s hand.

“Well well, a charmer, I see…” Fandango grinned wildly. “Alright sport, sit down in my chair. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Ah bet I do…” Finn cracked his knuckles and his neck as Fandango and Tyler flanked him and leaned in to the typewriter, poised to begin schooling their new fashionable apprentice.


End file.
